The Aryavarta Chronicles Kurukshetra: Book 3 (43 page)

‘Sometimes,’ Panchali said, ‘we remain so obsessed with the enemy that we forget who we are…’

‘What do you mean, Panchali?’ Govinda asked, frowning.

‘We go on and on about astra weapons, and assume that the enemy is more powerful for possessing them. But as you said, death came to Abhimanyu through the hatred and anger of men. Remember your strength, Govinda. Remember who you are.’

‘And who am I, Panchali?’

‘The fastest horseman in all Aryavarta…and your friend Partha here is a man who can shoot in the dark.’

22

VASUSENA CONSIDERED THE BATTLEFIELD, OBVIOUSLY PUZZLED.
‘I don’t understand. What could he have said that would get their soldiers to fight on? They were as good as finished, especially after that fool Partha made his proclamation or vow…whatever it was. Hah! Our soldiers are still laughing at it! But Dharma’s men…? There’s a fire in their eyes and I just can’t understand what could have roused that in them!’

‘I’ve told you, don’t underestimate Govinda Shauri!’ Dron said.

‘He could convince you to slit your own throat, given the chance,’ Kritavarman growled. ‘We all followed him from Mathura, like a bunch of fools, remember? The manipulative cowherd!’

‘Yes, but he didn’t hack down a lone warrior,’ Syoddhan said.

Kritavarman simply shot back, ‘We were just following orders, Your Highness. Indeed, your brother was the one who led the charge!’

Syoddhan let it go, something he would not have done easily in the past. But much had changed. There were larger things in the world to worry about than loose words and childish barbs. Honour had to be more than just these meaningless epithets. Honour had to arise from within one’s own self. His own son had died the previous day. Lakshman had single-handedly faced Abhimanyu and died with honour. The pride made it a little easier to take the pain.
He’d so looked forward to the eclipse today
, Syoddhan brooded. The event of a lifetime, Lakshman had called it. A life that was too short…for Lakshman and Abhimanyu, both.

Pain blazed like a sharp blade through his heart, and Syoddhan instinctively raised his hand to his chest. His fingers touched intricately-wrought metal. With reluctance and regret, Syoddhan looked down at himself. He was covered in armour unlike any he had seen before, not even on Dron or Asvattama. His earlier trappings, too, had been made of Wright-metal, but where that was a legacy from the days of yore, what he now had on was…indescribable. Fashioned from more pieces than could be counted, the armour felt as flexible and light as a tunic, but was as impenetrable as stone.

‘Why, Acharya?’ Syoddhan had been surprised when Dron had given him the armour that morning. ‘You should be wearing this…’

‘It was never mine to wear, Syoddhan,’ Dron had said. ‘This was made years ago by my ancestors. It was made at the pinnacle of their power, in fires that cannot be rekindled now.’ Syoddhan had then glanced at Asvattama, expecting to see envy there. But all he saw was warm approval. Oblivious to their silent interaction Dron had then said, ‘All hopes rest on your victory, Syoddhan. This is now yours. And I do not exaggerate when I say that this armour is impenetrable. Nothing, not even the best of Wright-metal can cut through it.’

Dron’s words had, for a moment, spurred in Syoddhan an anger he knew to be irrational. He had wanted to shout at the Acharya, ask him why he had not offered the armour earlier; this magnificent impenetrable armour, which could have kept Lakshman alive. But he knew deep in his heart that nothing could have kept his son alive.
This was war
.

Syoddhan turned his thoughts back to the present. ‘It still isn’t over,’ Dron was saying. ‘The needle is a very strong defensive formation. It will serve our purposes today. Keep Jayadrath alive. As for Govinda Shauri – I don’t think this newfound courage we see in Dharma’s men could have been of his doing. It is quite obvious that Govinda’s heart is not in battle. Either he was the hardest hit by Abhimanyu’s death, or he knows failure is imminent. Partha may or may not kill himself, as promised, but I have no doubt that Dharma will surrender this evening. Why, there’s no way their soldiers will fight on. Even their commanders, allies and kinsmen will piss on their pride. Listen to me, all of you. There’s only one thing that needs to be done today. Jayadrath must be protected from harm. This is our chance. Dharma’s army is like a dying lamp – one last defiant flare and then nothing but smoke. We have hit Govinda where it hurts him the most. He cannot fight back. Jayeti! Victory!’

It did not take long for the whole battlefield to see for themselves what Dron had astutely identified at the start of the day. There was no doubt at all that Govinda had lost his will to fight.

Partha shouted and cajoled, trying to rally his friend. ‘What’s wrong with you, Govinda? After all the things you said… We’ve been fighting since morning and don’t appear to be getting anywhere!’

But Govinda sounded detached. ‘And where is it you want to go, Partha? Do you know where Jayadrath is?’

‘Isn’t it obvious? Jayadrath must in the most impenetrable of places in the formation – the needle’s end.’

‘Which, Partha, is exactly what Syoddhan wants you to believe…’ Govinda said, grunting a little as he made his horses dodge some arrows. ‘The safest place is not the one that is defended well, it is the place your enemy will never look.’

‘And where is that?’

‘Right behind you. The more we face resistance as we try to move ahead, the more convinced I am that Jayadrath is behind us, perhaps within our own army lines.’

‘Then what are you waiting for, Govinda? Take us there…’

‘You’re searching for one man in an army of thousands, Partha. It’s easy for him to hide, and difficult for us to find him.’

‘What would you have me do then?’ Partha demanded, scathing. ‘Admit defeat?’

Irritated, Govinda snapped back, ‘I’d have you shut up and wait! Patience is certainly not your strength, I know, but try and find some. Wait!’

Partha said nothing, but sulked as he continued to fight.

The day went on, the men became more weary, and Govinda continued to maintain his stubborn recalcitrance. Above them, the sun raced across the sky, its effulgence ebbing as the pale white shadow of the moon gained strength. A purple dusk, like an overcast sky, slowly drew over them. Balahak whinnied and snorted.

Govinda indulged himself in a cold smile. ‘It’s time…’ With a sudden fervour, so unlike the lifeless man he had been all morning, he acted. He quickly dismounted and began undoing the straps yoking his horses to the horizontal wooden beam or cross-pole, that linked the steeds together and to the rig itself.

Partha watched, perplexed. The cross-pole mechanism was essential to keep the chariot balanced and the reins untangled, and it ensured that the horses kept their positions. Few deaths were worse than being dragged along for leagues by a horse gone wild, or else one terrified by an unbalanced rig. And here, there were four such creatures, magnificent no doubt, but also with minds of their own. Soon, his concern overcame his trust and he shouted, ‘What in Indra’s name are you doing, Govinda?’

Govinda said nothing, but threw a grateful smile at Pradymna, who jumped off his vehicle and came to help. The younger man appeared to know exactly what Govinda had in mind and the two worked together without a word. They removed the rest of the elaborate mechanism tethering horses and rig together and cast it aside.

‘Armour…’ Govinda instructed.

Pradymna immediately began undoing the protective metal coverings lashed over the horses’ vital organs.

Meanwhile, Govinda ran long lines of twisted leather and rope directly from each horse’s harness straps to metal rings set low on either side of the rig. The heavy harnesses formed a pile on the ground, alongside the cross-pole, the carriage shaft and the horses’ armour.

Then, Govinda did the unthinkable. He took the bridles off from each stallion’s hind legs. Now, there was absolutely no way to slow the horses down or control their actions, other than the often-ineffective reins that did nothing more than guide the horse by pressing gently on its strong chest.

‘I don’t suppose you intend for your horses to ever stop?’ Yuyudhana commented, drawing up nearby. He was still bleeding from a wound he had received earlier from a duel with Bhurisravas, their Yadu kinsman. It was a battle that would have gone badly for Yuyudhana, but for Partha’s timely intervention.

Govinda looked up from the horses on hearing Yuyudhana’s voice. ‘Not till Jayadrath’s dead!’ he replied. With that, he jumped back on to his perch and picked up the reins, two in each hand. He was just in time.

23

A GREAT DIN FILLED THE AIR AS BIRDS AND INSECTS CRIED OUT
in unnatural unison. The loud cackles and shrill chirps sounded like some hellish fiend screaming in a hateful tongue. Creatures of day fled alongside creatures of night in an impossible bid to escape what was about to happen. Slowly, an angry darkness crept over the sky, sucking in all light on earth, till every bit of it retreated into the huge blood-red orb that was the sun.

Suddenly, all was quiet. Fighting had stopped; the birds and insects had ceased their perpetual murmurs. The sound of horses’ hooves seemed muted, elephants ceased to trumpet and the omnipresent clang of metal on metal that was the sound of battle had faded, leaving an unnatural silence that felt far more ominous than any war imaginable. As a collective gasp rose from the battlefield, Partha looked up and added his own sharp cry as he saw what the others had.

The sun was no longer whole.

‘By Hara, Govinda, do you see this? I’ve heard about it but… but…Rudra save us, no wonder so many were willing to believe that this is some sort of magic!’

‘It is as much magic as Firewright science,’ Govinda grunted in response before making the horses rear and set off at a tremendous speed. Partha hung on, stunned by the reckless haste, clutching on to the sides of the car with one hand, his other arm wrapped around as many weapons as he could find. He wondered if anyone other than Govinda could have kept the unhinged rig from overturning at such speed.

‘Govinda! What…?’

‘Eyes on the field Partha!’ Govinda warned. ‘We need to find him quickly. If Syoddhan’s forces realize what we are doing then we don’t have a chance.’

‘What are we…’

‘Come now, Partha Savyasachin. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how to shoot in the dark?’

Partha chuckled as he remembered Panchali’s words.
The fastest horseman in all Aryavarta, and the marksman who could shoot in the dark…
Finally, he understood. All morning, Govinda had knowingly moved further and further away from Jayadrath. Now, using the cover of darkness, he meant to circle around the battlefield to the area behind them. Syoddhan and Dron would expect them to continue to move forward as they had been doing all day. They would never imagine that Govinda was capable of the swiftness required to reach Jayadrath. And, in the darkness that was quickly enveloping the earth, they would not see that Govinda was doing exactly that. It was perfect timing. The perfect decoy.

The last dregs of light disappeared from the earth, leaving behind a blinding, complete darkness, thicker and different from the blue of night. A sense of unease settled over the battlefield, but Partha welcomed the loss of visibility as he would a familiar friend. The solitude it brought was a balm for his pain, and more. Partha chided himself. He should have known better than to doubt his friend. He thought to apologize, but there was no time for speech. He closed his eyes and reopened them every now and then, adjusting his vision to the increasing darkness. He thought he could make out the shadowy outlines of their own armies on his left, but was not sure. If Govinda was right, Jayadrath was hiding amidst that huge sea of men and animals.

Steadying himself, the archer stood up, gazing into the mask of shadows. His eyes squinted against the wind and a hand rested eagerly on his bow. Without warning, Govinda swerved into the armies on their left. Partha felt a sense of danger grow on him as a ripple of noise stirred among the armies around them. These, he realized, were not their soldiers but Syoddhan’s. Govinda was guiding the horses into the thick of the action.

Straining his ears, Partha heard Syoddhan’s voice in the distance, and again felt their horses change direction. Govinda, he realized, was not just following the voices; he was listening to the orders that the two men called out to their armies. From their instructions, it was clear that Jayadrath was retreating further still, while Syoddhan gathered the rest of his forces into an impenetrable barricade. It was a well-thought-out move, Partha marvelled, and showed great wisdom: Syoddhan had resisted the temptation to rely simply on the strength of his larger force.

Dharma would have done exactly that
, Partha seethed. He would have given in to his ‘sense of duty’, which was nothing more than misplaced ambition, just as he had done when he sent Abhimanyu in to break the wheel. For a moment, Partha felt his concentration waver as the pain of his loss turned into anger – against Dharma, against all that Dharma stood for, including the very order of things that had brought them to this war. Then, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand, he fitted an arrow to his bowstring.

Before he could give in to the impulse, a soft whisper sounded in his ear, ‘Wait!’

Partha complied. Govinda slowed the stallions down to a trot, uncaring of the tumult that surrounded them, and kept still, as though listening intently. At length, Balahak gave a soft whinny. Govinda clucked his tongue, exchanging words with his horse in a language unique to the two. He turned to Partha. ‘The wind is changing. There is a new smell in the air… Any time now. Close your eyes. Be ready.’

‘But…’

‘Do it! We have just one chance, my friend. Once the eclipse breaks, it won’t take them long to know that we are here. Now, close your eyes!’

Partha obeyed, just in time.

Around him, thousands cried out in fear and awe as a dazzling beam of light shot through the dark sky, like Indra’s own thunderbolt.